I tried to maintain my temper, gritting my teeth and keeping my voice low and calm. "Miss Winslow," I announced with displeasure, the pace of my words steady and even. "If you need the attention that badly, please move to the front of the row. There is an empty desk here," I indicated one of the three empty desks at the front of the room that the class avoided. I waited until she melodramatically collected her things, standing and straightening her school uniform skirt. She made a mumbled comment to the neighboring students as she does every time I call her out, and pretended to be meek and timid on her slow walk to the front of the aisle to sit, ladylike and proper, in the front desk.
I rolled my eyes and turned away, facing the rest of the class again.
The Winslow girl had been a thorn in my side and a distraction to the class since I took over for the ailing Mrs. Perry. For two months now, I had barely been able to keep her under control as she acted up, making comments and being contradictory and argumentative and generally displaying inappropriate sexual behavior in class. It was hard enough keeping the attention of any small class of high school seniors, but these were bright kids, all in advanced classes. As a group, they were challenging and thoughtful, but Little Miss Winslow was a confrontational young lady who displayed a problem with authority. Almost every other day, I had to isolate her from the group just to get through the lesson.
And as hard as I had tried, I was reaching the end of my patience. The girl needed a lesson in humility. I grimaced and shook my head, stepping down the aisle to stand in the middle of the room, and resumed the lesson.
"The Magna Carta..." I began, but before I could ask about its significance, I heard her again.
"More like Magnum Condom," came the snide comment, too loudly from the front row, followed by snickering laughter.
I whirled on her, marched up the aisle, and dragged the empty desk next to her to the front of the room, spinning it to face the class, the chair backed up to the white board.
"Here," I told her, and she fired me a look of complete intolerance before standing again, going through the same routine. We all waited in silence until she was seated. Fucking bitch, I thought to myself. I was on a hair trigger. I glared at her and she put on the expression of supreme innocence in return. I gritted my teeth and turned back to the class.
Don't get me wrong. She wasn't a bad kid, as far as I knew. She was devilishly beautiful and probably the brightest of the lot of them. She was confrontational, sure, but insightful, sometimes brilliant, and had a perspective on history that defied her young age. The problem was that she instinctively rebelled against authority and challenged the status quo. She aced every test, finished all her work on time and completed every assignment, even the extra ones she'd earned through her misbehaviour. The problem was that she distracted the rest of the class.
And she defied me.
I blew out a breath and was set to resume the discussion when I heard subtle mumbles and murmurs from some of the boys near the front of the room. I turned to see her grinning at them, her knees parted and her skirt pulled halfway up her bare thighs.
Jesus Christ on a Pony, I thought, she's flashing her panties! Don't lose your temper, I warned myself. Keep it under control. But I knew I couldn't ignore it. I fought to control myself, and decided I had to do something to put a stop to this, teach her a lesson.
"Miss Winslow," I called to her from the middle of the room, loudly enough that the whole class could hear and keeping my voice stern but low and cool. She turned to face me and I straightened my spine. "Please lower your skirt," I continued, then, in a momentary impulse I tried to embarrass her, to beat her at her own game. She wants to show off? I narrowed my eyes, holding her gaze. "But if you must insist on showing your panties," I added with a low derisive sneer, "why not just pull them down and let us all see them?"
As soon as the words left my mouth I silently scolded myself, watching her face change instantly from defiance to horrific surprise. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide as she pushed the hem of her skirt back to her knees. Inwardly I admonished my impulsiveness and imagined myself later that day in the prefect’s office, being summarily dismissed. I was still staring at her and she was still staring right back. But at least, I considered, she's properly cowed. Maybe I can get on with the class and this will blow over?
But even as that idea materialized, she altered her expression. She lowered her head, extended her lower lip and half closed her eyes, admonished and embarrassed except for the dark, knowing look that glared up from under her lids. Soundlessly, staring at me the entire time, she reached her hands up under her uniform skirt, shifting her slim, gorgeous frame in the seat from side to side. I took a long inhale and held it, as her panties, pink and barely existing, appeared beneath her skirt at her knees.
Again with the challenge. Despite my previous vision of my firing, my need for control of this unruly young lady took hold of me, brushing aside my good sense and closing it away.
"So, you can do as your told after all, eh, Miss Winslow?" I prodded. There was dead silence in the room as the class watched this drama unfold. Her eyes were still on me. "Go ahead, all the way," I instructed evenly, struggling to keep the emotion I felt out of my voice. The words came out deep and firm, not quite commanding, but with unmistakable authority. She held my gaze as her hands pushed the scrap of pink lace and elastic past her knees. Her feet were pressed tightly together, flat on the floor and she parted her knees just enough to pass the gusset between them. I watched as her pink panties fell past her knee-high, regulation, white socks, to settle in a curl over her shoes, wrapped around her ankles.
I felt my cock stir at the sight and I suffered a momentary panic. I was wearing loose dress trousers today, and an erection would become obvious immediately, even inside my boxer briefs. Frankly, whether she was challenging me or obeying me didn't matter. The awkward elegance of her action had been subtly seductive and arousing, touching me deep in my stomach and shooting pangs of desire straight to my crotch. I forced myself to turn away, trying to remember what today's lesson plan was, but my brain was clouded with mental images of her bare pussy beneath her skirt and the memory of her expression.
As though she wanted me to tell her what to do.
Unable to form words, I called on one of the other young ladies and asked her to tell me the significance of the Magna Carta. She stood and began reciting, but I couldn't focus. All I could think about was Miss Winslow's pouty mouth and fiery eyes as she worked her panties down her legs. I kept my back to her, willing my cock not to rise.
Quiet Miss Hartford prattled on about inheritance and modern real estate law, and when I managed to focus my hearing through the buzzing in my head I heard murmurs from the front of the class.
She couldn't, I thought.
I turned my head slightly and from the corner of my eye watched as miss Winslow opened and closed her legs, flashing her bare pussy at the boys! The very thing I'd been fantasizing about! And she was showing it to her classmates! I held my hand up, palm out, to Miss Hartford and she stopped talking. I waited until Miss Winslow realized that the lesson had stopped before addressing her.
"Alright, Miss Winslow," I announced out loud in a stern but controlled voice, barely disguising my excitement or my anger at her defiant antics. She looked my way and closed her legs and the smile fled from her face. Once again she displayed the meek, pouty act. "If you cannot resist the urge to display yourself," I said, walking slowly up the aisle to her, sensing the building tension in the room, "then you may as well do it properly." I stopped at the front of the room and whispered to Mr. Hayes, a quiet young man, to roll down the window shade on the door and then lock it. He got up quickly as I stepped up to my errant young beauty.
I held out my hand silently and she took it, standing timidly and hesitant. I led her to my big wooden desk in the front of the room, frog-marching her with her panties around her ankles. "Go ahead, climb up," I instructed evenly. I helped her up onto the desk. "Hands and knees, there you go," I continued, positioning her sideways to the class, her pink thong now dangling from one foot. "Back straight, head up, there's a good girl," I instructed, speaking to her as though she were a trained pet. I walked behind the desk and addressed the class from behind her, looking out at my charges over her back. She held there, still and straight.
"Class, Miss Winslow seems unable to control her impulses. She has shown a desire to display herself in a lewd fashion." I held my breath and with one hand lifted her skirt up over her perfect, young ass, exposing the white fleshy globes to the world. There were a few gasps from the class. "Easy, now. The lesson will continue while Miss Winslow is displayed for our amusement," I announced, struggling to control my voice and breathing. I leaned into her ear.
"Stay," I told her, and she shivered slightly. Acting nonchalant I stepped from behind the desk, sneaking a sideways glance at her to see the lips of her shaved peach glistening between her legs. I stopped, inspired, and took the world history text from the desk and opened it to today's chapter, and rested the book on her shiny white ass, the binding nestled perfectly in her crack. I smiled at the class.
"Alright then, where were we?"
No one spoke. I looked at them all, but they merely gaped, wide-eyed at Miss Winslow, positioned like a show dog on the desk. I clapped my hands briskly to break the spell. "Come, come now," I said sharply, grabbing their attention. "Miss Winslow thinks this is perfectly acceptable, don't you, Miss Winslow?"
"Yes, Mr. Fletcher," she answered quietly.
"There you have it, class, now let's go," I encouraged, stepping out in front of the desk. Outwardly I remained calm and collected, but inside I was a morass of turmoil and conflict. Surely no good can come of having a half naked student kneeling on the teacher’s desk at the front of the class, no matter how much she deserved to be put in her place. But the animal urges inside me screamed to be released, wanting to bury my face between those delectably fleshy globes and feast on her, to pull out my cock and shove it into her mouth.
"Mr. Lee," I motioned to another young man in the back of the room. "Your take on the Magna Carta, please, and try not to repeat anything Miss Hartford has already said.”
He stood and began as I fought my instincts to turn around and ravage the sexy girl on my desk.
